


Consume.

by reythzii



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reythzii/pseuds/reythzii
Summary: Grow.Provoke.Consume.Consume.C o n s u m e.





	Consume.

**Author's Note:**

> A little what-if from Caleb's POV if the Nein had actually continued the Uk'otoa plotline. My beta's reaction to this was "what the fuck" so take that for what you will.

      This wasn’t exactly how Caleb had pictured The Mighty Nein’s last stand.

      Maybe expecting them to go out in a blaze of glory was giving his ragtag band of pseudo-friends a bit too much credit - but he certainly hadn’t prepared for their end being brought about by one of their own.

      Of course, he and Beau had Plan F waiting in the wings - their own version of Jester and Nott’s Fluffernutter, but less about explosives and more about subduing and restraining the Nein’s very own half-orc, half-eldritch conduit should he finally slip into the deep end.

      Slip, of course, had been the expected course of action. Following his acquisition of the second mysterious orb linked to Uk’otoa, he’d broken into a dead sprint. And now, in the presence of the third and final orb needed to summon his patron, Fjord had done a fucking nosedive into the same power-hungry, crazed well Avantika had nestled into the bottom of.

      It took damn near everything Caleb had inside of him to stop his knees from shaking. In his current state, Fjord was... well, intimidating was quite the understatement. Terrible, unruly power rolled off of him in waves, and the orb he held in his outstretched hand seemed to pulse like it was _alive_.

      And it didn’t help much that they were no less than a couple hundred leagues beneath the surface of the ocean at the moment, too.

      The chamber on the ocean floor they were in was enchanted by the same magic that almost seemed to leak from Fjord’s knowing smirk. The sprawling, ancient room was bone-dry save for the stagnant puddles that dotted the ground and the humid, salty sea air that wrapped around them and filled the Nein’s lungs. It was air, Caleb decided - it was heavier and more rich than the water they breathed through Fjord’s spell, and a hell of a lot harder to inhale the faster his heart raced and the more his chest tightened.

      Caleb was already weakened by the fights against the merfolk and other creatures of the deep that guarded Uk’otoa’s sacred place. They all were, save for Fjord, who seemed to grow more powerful the longer he held onto that orb. He’d gone after Yasha and Nott first, knocking the latter prone in secret and hitting the former with a barrage of Eldritch Blasts that had Caduceus bent over her in a tense panic, muttering healing words under his breath and looking around fervently for any opportunity to retrieve the small goblin and try healing her.

      Small - Nott looked so, so small curled in a ball like that, her chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths. Yasha wasn’t faring much better, for that matter.

      He looked away, closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath before turning his gaze back to Fjord. Those yellow eyes, more snakelike than ever, now seemed to be focused entirely on him. He couldn’t stand it.

      He was flanked on either side by Beau and Jester, respectively. Two women who were damn stronger than he’d ever let himself admit, because gods forbid he’d learn to make friends and rely on someone other than himself and the poor little goblin girl who treated him far better than he deserved at any point in his miserable life.

      The blue-clad monk on his left was the first to break the terse silence.

      “Hey Fjord, remember how we were all gonna keep each other in check? Well, I think you’re being a bit of an asshole right now,” Beau hissed through gritted teeth. Though her defensive stance was firm and unwavering, she gripped her bo staff with white knuckles. If Beau was this nervous; this scared…

      Caleb tried not to think about that for too much longer.

      Fjord turned his lingering gaze to Beau, a lazy smile growing to accompany the Eldritch energy that swirled around the falchion he held limply in his other hand. A muscle in Beau’s jaw feathered. Caleb heard Jester gulp.

      “Yeah, but you know what, Beauregard? I don’t really mind this look when I’m the one wearing it.”

      Hearing Fjord speak like that, in the rich, rolling accent he could only assume he’d hidden beneath the pan-fried one they’d all known him to possess did… _things_ to Caleb he’d rather not admit to in the heat of battle. His dignity had all but been pissed on, and he just couldn’t bring himself to fight the dryness that settled over his mouth and the fire lit deep in his stomach. Fjord’s slitted pupils flicked to Caleb for a split second like he knew it, too. Motherfucker.

      A low growl rumbled in Beau’s throat - just a little something else she’d picked up from Molly - who had actually picked it up from Yasha. It would have been a heartwarming moment if they weren’t all staring down death wearing the face of their ally.

      Instead, at the moment the noise ripped itself out of Beau, she was flung backwards with barely half a glance from Fjord, the Eldritch Blast that had been gathering at his falchion rocketing towards her and exploding with the impact. A sickening crack echoed through the chamber as Beau slammed against the wall of solid rock, and she slid to the ground, blood flowing freely from her nose.

      She didn’t make a sound, but Jester yelped in pain as if she’d been the one to take the blow. Her eyes flared wide as she saw the twisted pleasure that lit up Fjord’s, and she whipped around to bolt towards Beau’s unconscious form. With an angry lash of her tail she sent a bright blue shock of Sacred Flame blazing behind her, but in her blind fury it arced wide and missed the half-orc, instead searing the far wall behind him.

      So much for Plan F.

      Caleb opened his mouth, pulling together the fraying edges of his magic to try and assemble it all into a spell. “Fjord, I suggest you stand down.” Caleb’s delivery of the spell was unsteady; his voice trembled with Fjord’s complete, undivided attention on him. He held his breath, praying to whatever gods might still take pity on him that he cast it at a high enough level to even _work_.

      Fjord’s smirk set his core ablaze as it grew into a broad, cocky grin. Gorgeous - he was gorgeous, and he was only now noticing it? Now, when he’d incapacitated the rest of the Nein, and the only thing he had to do before summoning an Eldritch god was to knock Caleb unconscious with everyone else?

_Fucking spectacular timing, Widogast._

      “And I suggest you learn a more effective spell,” Fjord taunted. Caleb’s magic turned ashen on his tongue as the spell sputtered out and died, unable to penetrate whatever newfound defenses Fjord was behind.

      “Come on, Caleb. Try it again. Like you mean it this time.” Fjord’s grin was a slash of white across his glowing face. He took a step forward, shortening the distance between them to a few precious, suffocating feet. “It’s just us now. Go on. Try and kill me.”

      Caleb shuddered. This was it. This was his last chance, and even moreso than that this was his only chance. His own, solo Plan F. The last shot he had to make things right.

      He stood down.

      “No, Fjord. I won’t try and fight. I know this this the end; I’m of clear enough mind and sound enough judgement to know when it looks me in the face.”

      Fjord’s mouth widened in what appeared to be genuine shock. As quickly as he lost it, he regained his composure, hitching an eyebrow high and spreading his mouth into a thin, quizzical line. There was a silent command to _keep talking_ in the expression. Caleb didn’t dare disobey.

      “All I ask of you, friend, is a simple favor. For me.”

      “ _Caleb_ ,” Fjord crooned. How had he never noticed it before? His name on Fjord’s tongue; the way it made his cheeks flush and ears ring and his throat raw with desire.

      Come to think of it, pretty much every guy the Nein picked up did that to him in some way or another. He realized, at that rather inconvenient time, that his type was just ‘ _Oh gods I’m so lonely and you’re so stunning please talk to me before I open my mouth and push you away_.’ He tried not to cringe at himself.

      “You stand before me, Uk’otoa’s perfect champion, and beg.” Caleb sank to his knees, his tongue heavy and dry in his mouth. “Everyone you have allied yourself with, who you might dare to call a friend, is unconscious by my hand, while your healers try desperately to pull them back from the brink of death they cling to with tired, broken fingers. You look me in the eyes, though I’ve attacked and overpowered the one creature in this realm with a modicum of free will that has chosen to see the good in you and only that, and yet you cast her aside. You ask of me a cruel, selfish favor while she bleeds out, the rest soon to follow.”

      Fjord’s words rang hollow in Caleb’s ears. Foolish, he was a gods-damned fool for thinking this would work, for thinking this was the way out -

      He took a step closer, hardly two feet between them. “You have my attention, Widogast.”

      Caleb perked up. This was it. They’d come down into this cave with an unspoken agreement between them - come back alive. This was Caleb’s chance to make that happen.

      “What is it you want? Power? Immunity from the oncoming storm? Use these next few breaths carefully, Caleb. It will determine how generous I feel when my patron has been summoned.”

      From down on his knees, Fjord towered over Caleb. He was tall, even for a half-orc. But no distance could dim the alertness in those ever-aware eyes. They were the eyes of a predator now, a dangerous beast. Whatever Caleb did next, whatever he said to the force of raw power that stood in front of him, determined his fate. The fate of the Nein. As his own eyes, unblinking in their journey, committed Fjord’s shape to memory, he spoke:

      “Before it all ends, I want to taste you. Even if it is just once.” Fjord’s eyes widened, and both eyebrows shot up this time. A hint - just barely a trace of the clumsy, bumbling Fjord he knew knocked at the wall behind his snakelike eyes, showing himself in the stammered response.

      “Y-yes. Yes, you may.”

      Caleb rose. Slowly. His arms trembled as he closed the distance between them and put his sweaty palms on Fjord’s hips. He paused for a moment - burning Fjord’s face into the recesses of his memory. Then he closed his eyes, and leaned in.

      Caleb tasted the sun and the sea on Fjord’s tongue; the salt that hung heavy in the air around them was concentrated and sweet on his lips. Fjord was hesitant - it was the softest action from him any of them had observed since he’d come in contact with that third orb. He was slow in accepting it, slow in letting Caleb’s tongue swipe past his teeth and across his tongue more than a few times. Caleb’s calloused, clammy hands fought for purchase on Fjord’s lean frame as they climbed higher and higher, sculpting the half-orc lovingly in his memory.

      _Please_ , Caleb’s tongue begged, _let me in, let me in_.

      His fingers crept up Fjord’s back; one hand settled, finally, cupped around a muscled shoulderblade and the other found a home tangled in his slick black hair.

       _For all those times I was too blind to see it_ , they sang, _for what little time we have left_.

      Caleb pulled back, for just a moment, searching for the Fjord he knew in those cool, slitted eyes. He pressed himself into Fjord’s groin, grinding against him ever so slightly - if only so Fjord got just a taste of how very, very hard he was. Caleb’s skin buzzed with the contact, and Fjord must’ve felt it too - he sucked in a breath, and his pupils dilated as he slammed himself into him with avarice. Curious but hungry, so very hungry, Fjord’s tongue was upon Caleb’s neck. His toes curled and his eyes rolled back, sighing in spite of the situation as Fjord worked his way up his neck with quick, predatory nips of his teeth and long, generous strokes of his tongue.

      Now. Now, it had to happen now, while Caleb had what was left of Fjord distracted and occupied. Fjord nibbled at Caleb’s bottom lip; almost hard enough to draw blood but didn’t get very far before Caleb pushed open Fjord’s teeth with his tongue and slid it across Fjord’s.

      Just the taste of him alone was exhilarating - he tasted the sun and lifetime at sea once more; Fjord was the very depths of the endless ocean itself, and Caleb was a shaft of pure flame and sunlight piercing the surface.

       _More, more, more_ -

      Desperate, Caleb fought harder, swallowing his own moans of pleasure as Fjord’s deep rumbles filled his mouth. He ground against him, gyrating so slowly, so agonizingly slowly it was driving Caleb mad -

      Until he stopped.

      Fjord went stiff, a tremor coursing through his body.

      Caleb tasted copper.

      Fjord staggered backwards, confusion and betrayal painting the clouds gathering quickly in his eyes. Blood dribbled out of the corners of his mouth, and Caleb wiped away what had tainted his own lips. Fjord looked down, and saw the tip of a dagger poking out of his armor, the blade having struck clean and true through his heart. In what seemed to his reeling mind like it was occuring in half-time, Fjord crashed to his knees, and Caleb saw the lollipop-shaped hilt of the dagger protruding from Fjord’s back as he curled forward and in on himself. From behind him Jester sank to the ground with silent, steady tears cascading down her face.

      Caleb looked behind himself for long enough to see the Jester tending to Beau shimmer and fade, just as the dagger through Fjord’s heart did moments afterwards. He loosed a shaky breath. The half-orc was bleeding out fast; even faster now as the orb he’d held in his hand fell to the ground with a dull _thunk_ and rolled away.

      Separated from Fjord, the orb seemed to bleed out as well. The power, the very essence of Uk’otoa that had driven Fjord mad with power ebbed, feeling more like a shapeless figure watching them from a distance rather than a pair of hands closed around their throats.

      Fjord coughed, the sound a death rattle that called forth blood from his wound. Even lifting his head was a labored action now. Light faded fast from his golden eyes, his humanity pooling in them as his blood pooled around him. He met Caleb’s gaze, something all at once unreadable and impossible to misinterpret in that look. As his chest fell for the final time, Caleb lowered himself to his knees and made no effort to conceal the tears that sprung from his eyes.

~

~

      They sat like that for a while. In long, heavy silence while Caduceus tended to Nott and Jester crawled over to Beau, stabilizing her more than her duplicate was able to. Yasha was silent, but the sound of her breaths were as close to comforting as anything could be just then. It was, instead, the deafening lack of response from the rest of the Nein that truly gnawed at Caleb. What he had done -

      Foolish, risky, selfish, all that and more. Fjord had been right. He couldn’t stand it. It worked, but he still couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand himself. Couldn’t stand what he’d been too blind to see. In him. Between them.

      Jester broke the silence.

      “What do we do now?”

      It took a few tries for the blue tiefling to get the full sentence out around her sniffles. Beau was in her lap, curled around her tightly with her face shoved into her abdomen. Her breathing, however, was steady. Calm. Controlled. Jester had her fingers tangled in her hair. Beau shifted slightly at the sound of her voice, rolling her head over far enough to peek an eye out at everyone else. Jester adjusted her hands accordingly.

      Caleb looked over to Caduceus. The firbolg seemed like he could sense Caleb’s gaze lingering on him, and looked up from mending Nott. His breath hitched in his throat as he tried, he fucking tried not to break eye contact with the cleric. His wide mouth, so often set in a smile, found itself in a familiar position while Caleb searched desperately for answers in his eyes. Once, twice, the firbolg nodded, all while resting a faintly glowing hand on Nott’s forehead. She stirred. Caleb committed those nods to memory. It wasn’t like he would forget - not for a while, at least. But there were some moments too important to just trust his mind to hold on to. The monster Fjord had turned into, unchecked in his ambitions. The look of him behind his eyes, once when he realized he loved Caleb and the other when he realized it was over. The gentle, encouraging nods from the gentle, encouraging firbolg. Caduceus never pushed, never told him what or what not to do. Only sowed seeds he hoped Caleb would nurture, in gardens he hoped Caleb would one day find.

      There was a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that spread up through his ribs and into his chest, settling in his heart. He was almost sure, though he didn’t know why, that Caduceus felt it too.

      “We move forward.”


End file.
